This morning I am remembering my Aunt Micheline. The French war bride was in her upper eighties, frail, and living alone in an apartment on Beach Boulevard in Biloxi when Katrina hit. She was evacuated to temporary housing for many weeks, and finally returned to her apartment to find the landlord of the senior citizens’ complex had piled her furniture and possessions high in the middle of the living room to rip the bottom section of drywall from the walls to check for mold. The furniture shifted; she was injured, hospitalized, and died. She was a fatality of Katrina.
Especially for medically vulnerable populations, not nearly all fatalities of hurricanes are immediate drownings. The stress of persistent displacement and lack of access to compensations they have developed in their daily residences make them especially likely to have cumulative, subtle, negative effects.
There are many lessons from her story. I’d like to whisper her name in the President’s ear, and encourage him to be more sensitive in his discussion of Puerto Rico’s reported fatality numbers. But I’d also like to encourage family members, neighbors, and organizations with resources to maintain contact with elderly residents on the East Coast after this weather event is over. Because with a hurricane, it’s not over when it’s over.
God bless them, and the National Guard, first responders, linemen, and volunteers who will work tirelessly to restore those communities over the weeks to come.
